


Fuck.

by Fleshwerks



Series: Convergence AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleshwerks/pseuds/Fleshwerks
Summary: Both the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and the Inquisitor find relief in mean, no-strings-attached intimacy.





	

At this point, the Inquisitor sitting at the council tables surrounded by politicians from Orlais and Ferelden was a mere courtesy. With the darkspawn magister defeated and sky sewn back together he’d insisted that the Inquisition disband, but many had placed their hopes, ambitions and fortune into the organisation and now they’d come to carve up the piggy.   
  
Spiridon had agreed to remain as the Inquisitor. To show up, chime in, lend his authority with his presence, but he’d wielded said authority by strong-arming indebted nobles as well as sycophants that infested the organisation into letting him deal with more immediate matters. Disposing of the red lyrium, and look into sordid mysteries of the world that everyone preferred to forget. The world had gone back to normal. The churn continued. He didn’t blame any of them.   
  
Lady Warden-Commander had again arrived unannounced to Skyhold, suddenly turning up in her blue-grey cloak. Here for the negotiations involving Anderfels and the alarming news regarding the Grey Wardens and talks of forced regency. Some whispered of a coup. Some complained about the trade ceasing with the Anderfels and starvation in Churneau, Ghislain, Perendale, all dependent on the grain trade from North-West.    
  
Spiridon sat quietly, picking at his nails, earning dirty looks from some for his inattentiveness. But Anderfels and the smell of death that had been wafting East on black winds had lingered in his mind for some time. It was best not to interrupt.   
  
Aeres Surana seemed to share the sentiment, perched on her carved oaken chair like still winter, hands neatly resting on the table, skinny fingers wrapped around each other, eyes looking at everyone and no one in particular. Him too.   
  
Hours rolled along. Voices grew more hoarse, several spats broke out between the delegates of the Fereldan crown, notoriously a blooded Warden himself, and Orlais, who considered the Inquisition’s triumph their own victory. And the Inquisitor felt boredom settle in his bones, in his muscles that now complained about the hard seat and the hours spent on it while the important matters that were discussed devolved  into bickering.   
  
Lady Warden-Commander did not grace him with a glance.Yet anyone who was talking was rewarded with an attentive gaze. He caught himself thinking. The gnarled bramble of a woman, silent as the grave, and the council kept talking, pouring out secrets when cut with the blade of her eyes. But Spiridon did not feel like talking: he’d talked for years, all the idle talk and platitudes, sentences twisting like snakes. He’d talked like a politician, and now the well of his words was dry.   
  
Wasn’t long before discussions derailed and voices raised and blame was thrown around. They’ve gotten bold, Spiridon thought. A year ago words like these were whispered well out of earshot, but now the Orlesian delegates at the table made a grand display of their contempt and demands. He looked again at Aeres, who, to his mild surprise, was looking back, studying him, looking for tells, gauging the strength of the Inquisition by its reaction. He leaned back in his chair. Here’s a bloody tell for you, he thought.   
  
_ I want to bend you over my balcony rail and fuck you from behind,  _ Spiridon mouthed to her from across the table, expression indignant, challenging. Maker, he wanted out of the council chamber, to rest his back and to drink his wine and let his eyes fall shut in the quiet of his room. Quiet, he thought bitterly. He hadn’t known quiet ever since he drank from the Sorrows.   
  
The Warden’s expression remained stony, deflecting his indecent prodding completely. Maybe she couldn’t read lips.    
  
The meeting ended abruptly with the Orlesian delegate furiously marching out of the room, uttering something about the Inquisition’s walls being as thick as its Inquisitor’s skull. Spiridon rose from his seat and winced at the tightness in his back as he walked out of the room, bowing his head to avoid hitting the doorway, and spared the Lady Warden no glance at all. He wanted a hard surface to lie on, and left for his quarters at once.   
  
\----

 

Sweet skewered Andraste on a spit, he couldn’t write, not even after all this time, all letters looking like they were scribbled down by a child, correct, but the handwriting was an embarrassment. He adjusted the arms of his spectacles and sighed as he threw the parchment into a pile of finished letters and dipped the quill in the inkwell to start on a new one. The brief rest earlier today had done little to soothe the tension in his back, but the wine he was sipping between each letter seemed to help.    
  
He heard her long before he smelled her and smelled her long before she appeared at the stairs, but didn’t raise his head. He kept writing instead.   
  
_ You do that often, do you?  _ He said, crossing out a word and starting anew.  _ Come unannounced from the shadows to places you’re not supposed to be? Sticking that pretty nose of yours in everyone’s business.  _ He dropped the quill into the inkwell and finally looked up from his desk.   
  
_ That’s an interesting way to greet someone after such a bold offer in the Council chamber,  _ Aeres said, standing at the stairs, a shadow in a pale blue cloak.  _ Didn’t know you’re blind,  _ she said, casting aside her cloak and slowly strode to the table like the room was hers and he was the guest.   
  
_ I wasn’t there when they passed out gifts of keen sight to us elves,  _ he replied, sliding the glasses off his face and rubbing the red welts the frames had left on the bridge of his nose and pushed off the table. He squinted at Aeres who was idly picking through the stack of letters. Hair still wet, clinging to her face and shoulders, clad in a loose, unadorned shift, unlike the tight, suffocating garment she wore to the council.

Spiridon walked to his bed, sat on its hard edge and lied back with a groan, covering his eyes with his arm to give respite the tight muscles.    
  
_ Well,  _ Spiridon said,  _ was there anything you wanted or did you just come here to touch my stuff?  _ The sky outside was dark and clear and however lovely the sight of the witch displaying her dark graces was, he’d traded veiled insults with Orlais and Ferelden all day.   
  
_ A little bit of both,  _ Aeres murmured, deep voice fraying at the edges. She took Spiridon’s half-empty glass and refilled it, glancing back at the man collapsed on his bed. She took a sip, pondered, and shrugged.  _ Half-decent for a Fereldan vintage.  _ She walked slowly towards the Inquisitor, steps soft and deliberate, lingering just a little before she placed her feet down, until she finally reached him. She hiked up the skirt of her dress as she climbed onto the bed, and languidly straddled the Inquisitor, sipping from the glass.  _ So tell me, Inquisitor,  _ she said as she settled herself comfortably on her hips.  _ How have you been? _ _   
_ _   
_ Spiridon lifted his arm from his eyes and smiled at the sight of her.  _ I knew you missed me,  _ he said and closed his eyes again, letting his hands drop on her thighs, hiking up her skirt almost to  her hips, then down again until they settled in the groove between her hipbones and thighs, and to his delight, as he brushed his thumbs over her mound, he found that there was no cloth between his skin and hers. He opens his eyes slightly and smiles as he let his hands travel under her shift, across a hard belly and the harsh edges of her ribcage, along under her breasts. The witch sipped her drink, studying his expression with mild curiosity, but found no wonder nor awe there, only tired eyes and relaxation as he ily ran his hands over her breasts and down again.   
  
_ You picked the wrong night, lady Commander,  _ he said hoarsely,.   
  
_ Not feeling up for it?  _ She asked.   
  
_ Might be that I can’t give you what you want,  _ Spiridon replied.   
  
_ And, pray tell Inquisitor, what is it that I want?  _ Aeres said and gave the empty glass to Spiridon so he could set it on his crude nightstand.    
  
_ I am the Inquisitor. I inquire. You’re the one with ‘Commander’ in your title,  _ he said and pushed away from his bed, supporting himself on his arms as Aeres, still in his lap, steadied herself.   
  
_ So command me.  _ He tilted his head.   
  
_ You’re no Grey Warden, Inquisitor,  _ Aeres said, resting her arms on his shoulders.  _ I hold no command over you. _ _   
_ _   
_ Spiridon sighed and leaned forward, catching the woman before she toppled, and kissed her. Not harshly, not insistently, but slowly like he had all the time in the world. He let Aeres lead, but set the pace himself. If Lady Warden-Commander wanted a night of fiery passion, she was welcome to go and seek entertainment from others.    
  
He slid his hands down her back and hungrily sank her fingers into the flesh of her ass as he broke from the kiss, forehead against forehead, hot breaths shallow as he felt her up, and returned her poison smile with a broken half-smile of his own. Lady Warden-Commander was a prig, but he’d seen that thorny woman bloom before. He lied down on his bed, lady Warden still straddling him, and heaved her up by her hips.  _ Why don’t you come here,  _ he said, voice hoarse from the strain of the council day.    
  
The witch regarded him with cool amusement as she towered over him, watching him calmly hike up his skirt, his eyes following the hem until she was completely exposed to him. She let him savour her with his eyes for a moment, beckoning him to work for a real taste, and so he did, lifting himself to drink her. Gently at first, with featherlight flicks of the tip of his tongue he sensed her, smiling slightly at the minute responses of her body. Lady Warden-Commander could sit like a stone, immovable and perfectly still, unreachable, untouchable, but here she trembled at the touch of his mouth on her cunt, tongue circling her clit, then sliding over the it slowly and deliberately before exploring downward, parting her folds and finding her deliciously wet. He moaned into her as he kissed her slit, relaxed yet insistent at once, heart pounding at the deep, sharp, yet voiceless gasps he coaxed from her, erotic yet demure, coy, yet unashamed. Lady Warden took from him with one hand, but rewarded him with the other.   
  
She yelped in surprise as Spiridon tipped her backwards without warning, catching her before she could tumble to the floor, and rose, her arms and legs wrapped around him, though the elf held her securely against his hips as if she didn’t weigh anything at all.   
He swiveled around, chewing his lips and knitting his brows at the scarcity of flat surfaces in his spartan quarters.   
  
_ What is it?  _ She asked, but the Inquisitor had stopped looking around, eyes fixed on the desk. He carried her to it, haphazardly pushing away the ink, clutter and correspondence before he laid her down brusquely on the table and kneeled, pulling her closer by the thighs, pulling his long hair from his face, tucking the strand behind his ears before he resumed to feast on lady Warden-Commander, now propped on her elbows, eyes glinting as if she was moments of laughing as she struggled to reach the half-empty bottle of wine behind her, annoyance flickering across her visage as she remembered where she’d left the glass, but just as she brought the bottle to her lips, the Inquisitor brought his onto her velvet flesh, and she let out a wine-soaked giggle at the attempted decadence of the Inquisitor, his crude re-enactment of the idiotic romance tales printed on pulp. And yet, she thought, and let her head loll back as her back arched at the pleasure of Spiridon’s fingers sliding into her, that maybe this was no mating dance, no attempt to seduce, and maybe the Inquisitor just wanted to fuck her on his desk. The simplicity, the honesty of the thought spurred her forward, and she threw her legs over his shoulders and let herself sink into the carnality of the act, the pure joy of fucking without care.    
Spiridon fought the temptation to deprive her of her release, flip her around and fuck her hard in any hole she’d have him in. Instead he struggled onto his feet, knees aching from the hard floor, and let his lips travel up her pubic mound, along her hipbone, her hand wrapping around his pale hair that had traced path he was marking.   
  
The moan that escaped him was fraught with unexpected pain as Aeres pulled the Inquisitor’s hair, teeth clenched as she reveled in the honesty of the sound, the vulnerability of it, and locked her eyes with his as she held him securely, unrelentingly by the hair, savouring the way the corners of her quarry’s mouth trembled in the pleasure. She felt him sliding his fingers from inside of her, and quivered at him circling his thumb around her clit and gently over it as he gauged the responses of her body, sighing softly at the gooseprickles that rose on her skin as she kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipples slowly, deliberately and wetly, covering one with his mouth, sucking on it as he fucked her with his fingers. The tiredness that had held him before finally seemed to give way to fire, the sort that leaves bruises on supple skin and welts that bleed desire. The kind that turns a tender touch into a steely grip and comes not with love but the basest of instincts. He wanted to devour her whole. He wanted her to do the same, to have her fuck him stupid with those fine manicured fingers around his neck, with his cock buried in her ass.   
  
Another yank by the hair brought him eye to eye with Aeres. He felt her hot breath on his lips as she held his gaze in the steely grey wells of her eyes.   
  
_ Don’t stop,  _ she commanded him when his fingers had stopped in her.    
  
_ What will I get if I don’t?  _ Spiridon asked, voice husky and rich with promises of rapture.   
  
__ Me,  Aeres replied with amusement.

  
_ You’re not that good, jackal,  _ Spiridon teased, searching her face for a reaction. Jackal woman is what they called her in Ferelden, under their breath lest it summons her to feast on their flesh and suck marrow out of their bones.   
  
_ Better than anything you’ve had before,  _ Aeres said, betraying no emotion towards his insult.   
  
Spiridon smiled toothily, scars that split his lip pulling apart hideously, revealing the sharp teeth in a beastly mask. With ease and speed he twisted her arm out of his hair and flipped her over and dropped her face down on the table like a sack of flour, seizing her by her damp hair and forcing her angular face into the hard surface of the wood.    
  
He bent himself over her, letting her feel the heat and weight of his body on hers, pressing his concealed erection against her naked rear, and leaned into her ear, voice so low it could barely be heard:   
  
_ Prove it.  _   
  
Aeres bared her teeth in a low, ragged, teasing laugh, smile distorted by scars of her own, face uncomfortably stretched between the Inquisitor’s hand and the dark tabletop, goading.   
  
Spiridon smiled at her taunting consent, and released her hair as he straightened up, grimacing at his lower back aching from bending over, but the sight of the woman, half-naked in her robe, wet hair clinging to the skin of her back was enough to make him forget the discomfort. He wanted to enter her now and fuck her until morning, spurred on by her teasing laughs, wicked grins and unbridled, unpretended moans from a mouth that seemed to know nothing but restraint and severity otherwise. Melt into her, sink into the warm body, skin against skin, and fuelled by the fantasy he kneeled again between her legs, spread them from behind, and entered her cunt with his tongue, moaning against the tender flesh, vibrations of noise sending shivers up her spine and culminating with a deep groan rising from her beautiful throat.    
  


For a moment he considered bringing her to climax - he’d tormented her long enough and his mouth was getting tired, but the way she fell quiet and lifted onto her elbows and then collapsed upon herself when he tongued the length of her slit, to the rim of her ass only drove him on. The sheer eroticism of woman so tight-laced in daylight coming undone, loudly and unabashedly singing her pleasure to whoever might’ve heard convinced the Inquisitor that for a night he loved her like a supplicant loved his god. The way the ridge of her spine protruded when she tensed at the edge of an orgasm, and how she fussily collapsed when she was denied again.  
  
Spiridon ran the tip of his tongue around her rim, and sank in for a wet kiss as he felt her buttocks tense, body ebb and flow. That sound when her forehead hit the table, and the twitch when he slid a finger slick with her own wetness in her ass. He didn’t force any further, allowing her to get used to the sensation, relax, and leave her begging for more while he he rubbed her clit with his free hand, rising just a little so he could pepper the small of her back with kisses and hear and feel her sandy, low laugh reverberate through her body, though no longer was it taunting, but a sound near involuntary and laced with thrill. The little shivers betrayed her edge on which she teetered, ready to tip over at a mere touch. And then she did, loudly. Beautifully. Her sounds of unbridled pleasure he would drink up greedily, and for a while they remained so, the Inquisitor resting his head between her shoulderblades, listening to the racing heart.  
  
Then the Inquisitor rose again, near cursing out loud the imagined blades in his lower back, softly groaning at the pain of stretching as he looked at Aeres in front of him. The woman turned and rose on her elbows, body loose , legs hanging off the side of the table as she sat up and pulled her hair out of her eyes and mouth. Even now, barenaked with him towering over her she looked like she owned the room. Like she owned him. Where once had been grace and manners was a wench of the world, an almost-empty wine bottle again brought to her lips. She chugged it down, paying no attention to the smell or the nuance of taste, and Spiridon couldn’t help it but laugh at her crudeness.  
  
 _Has anyone told you,_ Aeres said as she slammed the empty bottle down and wiped her mouth into the back of her hand, _that you have a lovely laugh?_ _  
_ _  
_Spiridon’s smile waned slightly and his brows rose in mild surprise.  
  
 _Do tell,_ he said simply.  
  
 _Like bells,_ Aeres said.  
  
 _Wonderful,_ Spiridon scoffed when Aeres pulled him closer and wrapped her skinny legs around his hips, teasing him through his trousers with her wetness, and leaned up for a savage kiss. Broken mouth on a broken mouth, the slight, wet discomfort of scarred lips outweighed by lavishing something so marred and contorted with hungry kisses and little bites that hurt just a bit.  
  
 _I don’t get a compliment?_ Aeres asked as she pulled away from the kiss, running her hands down his chest and under the waist of his trousers where the skin was taut and smooth and hot, where the gentlest of touches could send a shock through his body and breath escape his parted lips.  
  
 _You don’t need one,_ he replied and moaned sharply when Aeres ran her hand over the length of his erection.  
  
 _Gods,_ Spiridon gasped, head falling back as he grabbed Aeres perched on the edge of the table by the back of the head when she kept stroking him through the fabric.  
  
 _Ask for it,_ Aeres suddenly said, voice ragged, low, almost threatening.  
  
 _Shan’t,_ Spiridon replied.   
  
Aeres lowered her mouth to his bulge and caressed the crown of his cock through the cloth with the tip of her tongue.  
  
 _Oh?_ She said and looked up, light eyes shrouded by the wisps of dark hair, deep and strangely cold, staring right through him.   
  
He looked at her from under heavy lids and felt a sheen of sweat form on his back. Thin limbs and gristle, head not even coming up to his shoulders, he could break the woman’s body with ease, but there she was, sitting naked on his desk, casting rope after rope around him by just looking at him just the right way, that dark way through the hair draped over her face. Like some woods-witch, or a demon.  
  
 _I want to fuck you in the ass in the throne hall. Right there on the throne, right where any soul late awake could walk in on us. Ah,_ he smiled at the ceiling and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her lips on his belly, right along the edge of where hair grew thicker.   _The seat of the judge, lit by the light of mercy and-- ahh,_ he looked down with wonder, and his smile grew wider, ... _and stained with the blood of the enemies---_  
  
 _Too easy,_ Aeres chuckled at his yielding as she plucked at the laces of his pants.  
  
 _I get that a lot,_ Spiridon said, stroking her dark hair as he watched her thin fingers working deftly, yet taking their sweet time.  
  
At last the laces came undone, and she rolled his trousers down his hips just enough to free his cock, fully erect, curving upwards. The Warden hopped down from the table, making him stumble backwards.  
  
 _Let’s do it,_ she said.  
  
 _What?_ Spiridon snapped out of his rapture.  
  
 _Let’s go down to the throne room,_ Aeres said, grabbing her robe that laid crumpled on the table.   
  
\---------  
  
Spiridon pushed open the door that led to the throne hall and peeked out. There were only a few braziers burning at this hour and even they were nearly down to embers. In a few hours, castle staff would be waking up to light them up again, and the fireplaces so that the castle was warm by the time everyone else awoke, but for now only silence lived in the vast space, and low light.   
  
Aeres slipped through the crack in the door, bare feet pattering on the cold stone as she walked to the throne - a simple seat of two slabs of smooth, uncarved dark rock. They’d tried to set him up on something fancier and more imposing, but he had refused despite the protests from his companions and advisors. And now the Warden-Commander sat down on it and leaned back lazily, eyes shining in the dark like elven eyes do.  
  
 _This seat suits me just fine,_ she half-whispered, wary of alerting anyone who might’ve been up.   
  
Spiridon snorted as he followed. _Lady, your feet can barely reach the floor._ _  
_ _  
_Spiridon had never had the gift of elven darksight, for though elven himself, he’d taken after his Helai mother. But he liked to assume that the Warden smiled as he heard her hop off the throne, vacating it for him. He’d barely sat down when he felt her climb on top of him, straddling him, only visible as a dark silhouette against the dying braziers, eyes shining like two Will-o’-wisps in the ambient light of the moon flooding in from the stained windows behind the throne.  
  
She guided his hands under her robe that she’d wrapped around herself haphazardly and leaned her forehead against his as he slowly slid them up her body, squeezing her breasts, gently thumbing the hard nipples. She kissed him, less forcefully this time, and more deeply, tasting his tongue in her mouth and responding with the smallest most quiet moans when he ran his hands down again, behind her, grabbing her ass, pushing his fingers inside her, first her wet cunt, then ass, one finger, two, until her hips rocked against his in the rhythm of his own thrusts.   
  
She freed him from his pants at last and grabbed her eager cock and impatiently guided it inside her, covering Spiridon’s mouth to muffle his moan. The hall echoed terribly.  
  
 _Afraid of getting caught?_ Spiridon whispered once Aeres had eased his entire length into her cunt and finally dared to remove her hand from his mouth.  
  
 _I’d rather not, yes,_ she whispered sharply.  
  
A low chuckle rumbled through the Inquisitor’s chest.  
  
 _Chicken,_ he said, and placed his hands on her hips, urging her to ride him, but the Warden grabbed him by the right wrist.  
  
 _Don’t stop!_ She whispered as she put his hand back on her ass. Spiridon kissed and moaned into him as he fucked her ass with his fingers as she was riding him, slowly, achingly slowly, clenching around him so sweetly he could’ve come right here, but he’d never screwed on the Inquisitor’s throne yet, and the promise of defiling it in such profane ways was too enticing.  
  
 _Ohh_ …… _Gods,_ he growled as he dug the fingers of his free hand into her back, drowning in her warmth, her sweat as she took him, fiercely staring at him, brushing her fingers over the scars on his lips, rewarding him with little gasps when he sucked her fingers, opened himself to her, made himself so beautifully vulnerable in the light of the moon that had now freed itself from the gossamer clouds and shined into the hall fully.   
  
Suddenly, noises, footsteps echoed in the hall, and torchlight flooded out of Skyhold’s rotunda, and Aeres whipped her head towards the direction, slapped a hand across Spiridon’s mouth, and froze still.   
  
_Shit,_ the Inquisitor mumbled into her hand, trying to peer over her shoulder wide-eyed. He couldn’t make out more than a shape emerging from the doorway, no matter how hard he squinted to make a man out of the blur. It lingered in the hallway, but the Warden in her lap remained still, so the intruder must’ve not noticed them. The screeching and the slam of the wicket door followed with Aeres sinking into her lap, exhaling the breath she had held until now.   
  
_Fuuuuck,_ Spiridon said as her hand fell from his mouth.  
  
 _Uh-uh,_ Aeres agreed.   
  
_What,_ Spridon said and leaned back, tilting his head with an impish little mind. _Thought you’re into that._ He brushed a strand of hair off her face.  
  
 _I am,_ Aeres replied. _But I’m also into not getting caught on the Inquisitorial throne with its Inquisitor’s fingers up my ass, thank you._ _  
_ _  
_Spiridon chuckled. _Chicken shit._ _  
_ _  
_ _Well, then. Get up,_ he quipped and smacked her ass, and with a scoff she obliged.  
  
 _Get up,_ he said, kicking off the trousers that had bunched around his ankles. _On the throne, stand on the throne._  
  
 _What, why?_ She asked.  
  
 _I’m too tall for this, come on,_ he said.  
  
 _Ah,_ Aeres smiled, and stepped up slowly, gracefully, bathing in moonlight for him to see and marvel.  
  
 _Now,_ Spiridon murmured as he put his hands around her, turning her around slowly to face the back away from him, pulling her hair to one side, kissing the exposed neck and shoulder lasciviously, pushing her forward so she could lean on the back of the throne.   
  
_Cold!_ She complained as she embraced the stone, gooseprickles covering her skin, but he wrapped his right arm under her belly for support and pressed himself against himself as she nuzzled the crook between her shoulder and neck. He slid his free arm down her side, across her hipbone and between her legs, lazily moaning into her neck when she twitched at his touch and gasped when he rubbed her clit.   
  
_Now,_ Aeres rasped between clipped moans, _are you going to make good on your promise?_ She asked coyly, shivering at the touch of his tongue on the nape of her neck.  
  
And he shifted himself a bit, grabbed his cock and pushed it between the thighs, along her cunt, biting his bottom lip at how wet she was, and then slowly, carefully drove himself into her, groaning at the tightness of her ass, the warmth of her, the way she looked over her right shoulder, the terrible scars deep and ragged, splitting her feral smile in the moonlight, and her eyes on fire as she hugged the back of the throne.  
  
 _Grab my hair,_ she snarled at him as he fucked her, and he tangled his fingers into the mass of her hair and forced her head against the stone.  
  
 _That’s right,_ she hissed and moaned. _Harder--ah!_  
  
The sound of her yelp of pleasure and pain rang out in the throne hall, but Spiridon didn’t care anymore. He groaned and looked down to watch himself slid in and out of her, skin slapping against skin, and drank from the low, husky sounds of his lover as he worked her clit, tasted the salt on her bare shoulders, uncaring of the low moans that escaped him with each thrust. They could march the whole staff of Skyhold and the guests through the throne hall if they so wished, he’d fuck the Warden-Commander into the throne as if not a soul was present.  
  
 _Harder,_ she commanded again, and Spiridon let loose, as the lady ordered, fucking her ass and stimulating him at the same time, teeth now sunk into her flesh in rapture, and the entire hall filled with the sounds of their screwing.  
  
He felt her shiver under her again, cries of pleasure growing clipped, breath wavering her throat.   
  
_I’m gonna cum,_ she managed between the gasps as she brought her own hand between her legs, on his hand, urging him to work her harder. The magic words that spurred him on. His own pleasure suddenly mattered little - the mere thought hearing the sound of her coming again would’ve been enough to make him come undone in her right this moment, but he persevered.  
 _I’m gon---_ but the convulsions already betrayed her climax. One of her painted nails broke on the throne she clawed.  
  
 _Fuck,_ he groaned through clenched teeth. His turn. He shifted his position, hand still in her hair, her face pressed roughly against the stone, cheek scraping against with each hard, fast thrust, the ends of his long fair hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on her back.  
  
Until his cries of pleasure echoed in the halls and corridors of Skyhold as he spilled into her ass and pulled her body against his, long, storm arms wrapped around her as he caught his breath. Face buried in the Warden-Commander’s hair.  
  
\--  
  
The halls were silent now as Spiridon dressed with the Warden-Commander waiting at the door that led up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, hand resting on the door knob.  
  
 _And just where do you think you’re going,_ Spiridon said without looking up as he laced his breeches.  
  
 _I’m taking a bath,_ the Warden answered simply in a tone that disregarded the Inquisitor’s opinion about it entirely.  
  
 _You have a washing basin and hot water on the coals in your room,_ Spiridon said and stretched to ease the pains in his back.  
  
 _My room is a bit far away from here. I’m not going to run the the halls and walls in nothing but this nightrobe after the whole castle got subjected to our throneside dalliance,_ she retorted and pushed open the door.  
  
Spiridon sighed heavily and shook his head as he followed her. __Make yourself at home why don’t you, he muttered under his breath, but followed the woman back up. He wanted to wash himself clean and crawl to bed and sleep like a rock for the dawn by now must’ve been only mere hours away. The Lady can stay the night if she so wishes, but though she had a way of interfering, his sleep was sacrosanct. Too old to fuck all night.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Simple and to the point. They deserve each other. No romance, just blowing off steam. Aeres Surana belongs to Luciferesque on Tumblr. Thank you for borrowing her to me, she's a compelling one! Part of the Convergence AU


End file.
